Riddles Mirror Novels & Stories

“I didn’t expect you to be the killer. It wasn’t enough that you killed your parents-in-law. Why did you have to kill my mother too?” I looked at the three of them. They all had the same reaction. I froze for a moment. How was that possible? A mirror was just a mirror. It showed whoever stood in front of it. How could it show my face no matter who looked into it? But their grief did not look fake. What was so strange about that mirror? How could it make my wife, my trainee, and my neighbor all believe I was the killer? “I didn’t kill your mother. It wasn’t me.”

Laughter slid down the hall behind him. He looked. In the mirror on the landing, Julia’s demon face grinned, eyes like coals. “Don’t you love me, William?” He lurched into the corridor. Mirrors lined the walls. Each held her, clawing at the inside of the glass, reaching. His golf bag leaned by the linen press. He ripped out a five-iron. CRASH. A mirror blew apart. CRASH. Another. Shards screamed on hardwood. He ran and swung and ran and swung—ten mirrors a metre, ten doors she might pull him through.

The room didn't just turn amber; it turned "Cold." From the Mirror, a figure began to emerge—not an Architect, but a "Reflection." It was a man who looked exactly like Silas Thorne, but his eyes were two solid pools of liquid silver. "The Mirror is not a looking glass," the reflection said. "It is a 'Peer Review'."

beginning to emerge from his own skin, those hollow black eyes bleeding into his silver ones. "Please!" I shrieked, my fingernails tearing as I yanked the tarp. With a thunderous rip, the canvas fell away. The Great Mirror was revealed. Its surface wasn't glass; it was a pool of liquid silver, swirling with a light that didn't come from the sun. I didn't look at my own reflection. I looked at the reflection of the battle behind me. In the mirror, Julian wasn't fighting a corpse. He was fighting himself.

My supposed-to-be-frozen legs damn cooperated before I could will them to stop. “It’s just a mirror, Ira. What else does it do other than reflect our faces?” I steeled myself, wanting to show him the damn thing didn’t affect me. Common sense told me this was one of the mirrors he was looking for. One of the two that was supposedly stolen. I knew it had special properties. I just wouldn’t say that out loud to him. “Indeed, you are right, but this mirror isn’t just an ordinary mirror. It has a valuable property no other object has.”

"If you pass the test, I will give you the mirror of mirrors myself. If you fail, you die. Do you understand?" "I understand" "Good" she said, a slow smirk creeping onto her lips.I swallowed hard.Was I ready? I honestly don't know."Close your eyes" Yaran said. I narrowed my eyes. What was she up to? "Do you want the mirror of mirrors or not? You have to cooperate with me" I exhaled slowly and closed my eyes. ********

I hand her my business card and turn to the room where Danner is still with the other assistant. Then I stop abruptly, I think I recognize the reflected figure in the mirror glass of the shop window. I turn around but don't see anyone. The shop assistant understands what is happening and smiles at me. "That's an optical illusion. The angle of that mirror is on the other side." She takes my hand and walks to the intended corner. But there is also, nobody. Strange!.

They walked on. The Mirror Fields were vast. This meant that it took nearly two hours before they saw the first sign of life: a mirror that is representing an individual object in the middle of the field. Its frame was draped with vines that ate into the wall yet the glass portion was pristine, almost excessive. It caught the group as they were in movement but not really as they were; each reflection was not static but changed and revealed other versions of the group. A younger Serakha. A bloodied Lucian. A man in Arden laughing with strangers. They stopped, staring.

Its surface shimmered like water in moonlight. My reflection stared back. But not quite. He smiled. I didn’t. He raised his hand. I didn’t. And then, with one sharp movement, my reflection placed a bloodied hand against the glass. Words began to form on the surface in red: "Only one of us leaves the altar." The mirror cracked. The reflection stayed. My breath hitched, chest tight with something close to terror. I turned and ran—this time not toward answers, but away from something I didn’t understand.

Later that night, as darkness enveloped the Mirabella Estate, Autumn found herself transfixed by her reflection in the antique mirror hanging in her room. The glass fogged gently around the edges, but her reflection remained clear and sharp, an eerie contrast. Just as the image began to wane, it revealed a chilling sight—a smile, wide and inexplicable, unfurled across her mirrored self.